Page 85 of Wild Hearts

Walker: Dakota was hoping you could come over tomorrow. She's disappointed you're not.

Addison: Why don't you see how it goes? Have your morning, and then let me know. I can always come over later.

I loved how understanding she was. She understood that wemight change our mind or not know what to do this holiday season.

Walker: I miss you. I want you here now.

Addison: As much as I want to, I don't think she's ready for me to be sleeping over, especially on Christmas morning. She needs her dad.

Walker: She might be feeling some stuff tomorrow too.

Addison: First Christmas without her mom.

Walker: I have an idea of what next Christmas will look like.

Addison: Oh, yeah? What's that?

Walker: I want you here by my side. We'll watch some sappy holiday movie and go to bed together.

Addison: Sounds perfect.

Walker: Good night

Addison: Night

I had everything I'd ever wanted, my daughter, and Addison. I tried not to let myself go down the thought spiral of what if I never found out about Dakota or what if her mother didn't get sick. That led to too many uncomfortable feelings. My therapist told me to stick with the present moment and to feel grateful for having her in my life. And I was.

The next morning, I expected that Dakota would get up early, eager to open her presents. But I was up long before her. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning waiting on my parents to get up. I showered, made breakfast, and then waited for her to appear.

Finally at ten, she came down the steps in her pajamas.

"Morning, sleepyhead," I said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dad." She smiled and crossed the room to hug me.

This was the best Christmas I could remember, and it had only just started. "Do you want breakfast or presents first?"

Her stomach rumbled. "Food, then presents."

"This is different than how I imagined. I thought you'd race down here at the crack of dawn wanting to rip open your presents." I poured the batter in the pan for pancakes.

Dakota rolled her eyes. "I'm thirteen. Not seven."

"That must mean I'm old." And I missed out on having a little girl. I tried not to think about what I'd missed, but it was hard not to on this morning. The sense of loss was acute.

"You could always have another, you know?"

My brow furrowed. "Have another what?"

"Another child? You could raise her from the beginning. Then you could experience everything you missed with me."

I rested my hand on the counter. "First of all, there is no replacing what I lost from your childhood."

She raised a brow. "And second of all?"

"I never even considered having another. Besides, you're already too much for me to handle," I teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I'm an angel."

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